


Going Nowhere or Anywhere

by Midvelvet1263



Series: Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary [2]
Category: Music RPF, The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Female Paul McCartney, Period-Typical Sexism, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midvelvet1263/pseuds/Midvelvet1263
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's July 1957 when she meets him, and whatever happens from then on, there's no coming back from it. They're fine with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Nowhere or Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a...follow-up? Prequel? Something like that for Neckties and Champagne. Basically more random explorations of the whole "what if Paul was born a cis girl" concept. The inspiration for this and why it's focused on Paul in particular, as opposed to any of the other Beatles, is from reading a lot of interesting meta about Paul being the "feminine" one of the Beatles (being seen as the "cute one", writing love songs, etc.) as opposed to John being more "masculine", so that led to the question of what if that had been taken to the extreme of Paul actually being female and how much that would have changed things. 
> 
> I'm starting to ramble so I'll cut it off here, but I'll probably have more ficlets/fics about this up in the future.

It was an uncomfortably warm day when Mary was walking to the bus stop, sweat starting to bead on her forehead and her hair already starting to loosen from its blue tie. She pulled at it clumsily with one hand as she went, but all she succeeded in was loosening it further.

Moments like this were when she thought of getting a haircut. But it was also when she decided to hell with it and undid her ponytail entirely, tightening up the tie again as she came to a halt at the stop. Her mother had always been better at this than she had, she thought with a pang as she pulled one last time on the tie to keep it in place.

It took a look around to realize there was more of a crowd than usual at the stop, as well as boys starting to gather alongside the girls. The buses looked like they were running late again, the girls' usually being a little earlier than the boys', but generally Mary didn't mind waiting because that meant she could talk to the boys from the Liverpool Institute across the street from hers. Some of them in particular were nice and didn't try to pull her, although she didn't exactly mind the flirting from others, either. It was easy to flirt back, even if she was never really serious about it.

But currently, the sun seemed vindictive in how much heat it was giving from the cloudless sky and all Mary wanted right now was to get on the bus before she started to melt. It was when she was starting to roll up her sleeves in an effort to ease the overheating that she heard it.

"Oi! Oi, Mary!" She didn't have to look to know who it was, but she did anyway. Ivan Vaughan, lanky and tall with his usual gelled up hair, flashed a grin at her as he slowed down to an easy walk to the stop. She wasn't exactly close with him, but she knew him from the times he'd chatted her up while they waited together at the bus stop and at some parties during the past year―although the main thing she remembered from his first attempt at pulling her was his comparison of her to Brigitte Bardot. "You doin' alright?"

"Just fine, thanks, Ivan." Involuntarily, Mary let out a yawn. "You?"

"Oh, don't worry about _me,_ I'm gear." Ivan winked at her, exaggeratedly enough for it not to be obvious whether or not he was trying to pull her. He fumbled through a pocket in his blazer before coming up with a pack of cigarettes. Nicked, probably, behind his dad's back. He took two out, sticking one between his lips while offering the other. "Want one?"

"Sure." Mary took it, placing it between her lips as he got out a matchbox.

“You got any plans this Saturday?” Ivan’s voice was nonchalant, or at least trying to be as he struck a match and lit up before passing it to her.

“Not really, no.” Mary paused to light her own before adding teasingly, “Are you asking me out again, Ivan? Answer’s still no, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s the Woolton fête!” Ivan now looked slightly sheepish as he watched her flick the match away out onto the road. “Just wonderin’ if you were going.”

“Why would I go?” Absentmindedly, she took a long drag to inhale the smoke. From what she’d heard of Woolton, nothing much happened there other than the fête. There was something about a girl being crowned Rose Queen and processions of floats on lorries, but not a whole lot else. “Elvis playing there or something?”

“Well, not Elvis,” Ivan answered casually, flicking some ash off of the end of his ciggy, “but I’d say they’re almost there, with a bit more time. It’s the Quarrymen, they’ll be performing."

“And?” Mary had the distinct sense that wasn't the end of it. Ivan had told her about them before, some skiffle band he played the tea-chest bass for occasionally. The way he went on about them sometimes, it was like he was singing the praises of something sacred.

“And I was thinking," Ivan went on, taking a brief inhale of his smoke, "you could go with me, y'know, see them play for a bit. Not a _date_ or anythin', obviously, but―you've still got that guitar, right?"

"Yeah," Mary replied in between puffs on her cigarette, distinctly sensing she knew where this conversation was going but not sure if she liked it. Ivan had seen her play more than a few times at parties, striking up a tune or two she'd memorized by ear, but she'd never told him anything about interest in a band. Or the songs she thought of, sometimes, for that matter.

"You're not half bad, you could show 'em some of your stuff." Ivan looked almost expectant, hopeful, but not joking like he'd been before. His expression was entirely earnest. "Just bring your guitar down, play a bit, I reckon they'll like you."

"What, you don't think they'll be distracted by my pretty Brigitte Bardot face?" Mary deadpanned.

Ivan feigned hurt, clutching at his chest dramatically. "Cor, Mary, you wound me! Are you still stuck on that?"

"Maybe." Now it was her turn to wink. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers, some ash dropping from the end. "Really, Ivan, sounds tempting an' all, but I don't know. You reckon your mates in the Quarrymen don't mind being shown up by a bird?"

Granted, she had no idea how well anyone in the Quarrymen even played, and she wasn't sure just how good she measured up to anyone else, either. Not that she'd admit that, though. One bloke had told her she was good but not _that_ good and she should know why she wasn't, and that still stuck in her craw whenever she thought of it from time to time.

But when she did think of it, she usually got out her guitar and held it the wrong way as she set to strumming. And she'd find the right notes, the right song, and she'd sing as she played, and she'd remember why she'd started playing at all―it wasn't anyone else, just her. It was her music, her guitar to play it on, and the songs in her head needed a place to get out.

Getting them out in public, though, and in front of an audience she hadn't even met before...well, that was different.

"First time for everything, right?" Ivan flashed her another grin. "C'mon, I think you'll like 'em. Just trust me on this."

"I think the problem here is I'm not sure just how much I _should_ trust you," Mary drawled.

 _"Cor_ , Mary!" Ivan shouted melodramatically, causing a few nearby to stare as he made as if to faint and Mary burst into laughter. "Evil, bloody _wicked_ woman!"

The buses were now pulling up to the stop, halting abruptly with a near-screech of the tires. Mary, still laughing, flicked away her cigarette turned stub and began to follow the small crowd heading towards the buses. "Jolly good show, Ivan. You should really try theater sometime, I think Hamlet'd suit you."

"Is that a yes?" Ivan sounded no less earnest than before as he walked next to her, moving with the throng and off towards their buses.

Mary gave a shrug. "I'll think on it. Ta, Ivan. Talk to you in a bit, yeah?"

With that, she gave a wave and stepped up into the girls' bus.


End file.
